Ardency and Circumstance
by krook
Summary: This is a story about Renly Baratheon and Loras Tyrell.


A/N:

Renly/Loras. Rated M. There will be a major character death. This story is canon-compliant. Spoilers for _A Game of Thrones_ and _A Clash of Kings_. I've written this with the characters' ages **from the show** in mind. All credit for characters/settings/etc. goes to George R. R. Martin. No profit is being made from this work. More at the end.

*L.E: Small changes were made shortly after the publishing of this fic. I have to thank GinnyRules here, for taking the time to give me useful advice.

**21.9.13: I began writing this fic after reading the marvelous stories by fanfic author honey_wheeler. Her work was a huge inspiration and she is a wonderful writer.

* * *

Ardency and Circumstance

It's common enough in young boys. Naturally children grow curious and a young lordling might kiss the armorer's son beneath the greatswords that are up on the wall, and then they would laugh and it would be forgotten as they got older. Renly thinks it likely that there are many common men who prefer lying with each other instead of taking wives and fathering children. If it happens amongst the greater Houses, no one shows it, and so Renly tries to swallow it down as well.

On his fourteenth name day, Robert had sent a girl up to his room. Her hair fell down past skinny shoulders, thick and brown. He had never seen a naked woman before, and he could not help but stare. She kissed him, and he kissed back, but afterward, when she had left the room, and he lay naked and breathing heavily on the bed, he couldn't say he had enjoyed it as much as he had thought he would. There hadn't really been anything wrong with it – it was only that he had hoped it would be more.

He understands it better now, though. When people ask why Lord Renly of Storm's End takes no women to his bed he only smiles politely and responds with some vague line about how he keeps the matters of the bedchamber in the bedchamber or something as such. Most come to the conclusion that he is just a very private man, but he knows that there are others who have guessed the truth.

It isn't always this straightforward though. He's reminded of this as the object of his frustration pushes past the heavy oak doors of his solar, where Renly sits reading a letter from Winterfell. The House Stark has just welcomed a child. There's to be a great feast.

"Am I disturbing you?" There's a smile in his voice. Loras was always bold, even when he was Renly's squire. But now he's training to be a knight.

"You didn't knock." There is no sternness in Renly's voice. Loras smiles and there's a spark of something bright in his eyes.

"You didn't mind." He grins wider and walks towards Renly, sitting down on the sofa beside him. Renly's eyes flit to that one curl beside his ear that never stays back. He quite likes it, he decides. _Gods, stop it._

Loras brings a hand up to Renly's face, eyebrows coming together in his frown. His fingers ghost past Renly's jaw. "You need a shave." Loras no longer acts as a proper squire for Renly, not with training taking up so much of his time. Shaving, however, is one ritual that they have not parted with.

"Do I?" Renly isn't paying much attention. He's trying to ignore the way Loras is looking at his chin and his cheek.

"Yes. Come on." Loras stands up and holds his palm in front of Renly's face.

"Now? I've got a letter to respond to." But he's standing up as he says it. He finds it hard to say no to Loras. Fostered and raised at Storm's End, Loras had gone from being a charming boy to an attractive man. He had a tongue as quick as his mind and a warm laugh. He won people over easily. Renly was no exception.

"Yes, yes, there will be time for all of that. Come on."

"Now hold still," says Loras. Renly scoffs at this.

"Please. You've never nicked me." And he's completely certain that he won't get cut now.

Loras kneels close to Renly. He's concentrating hard enough that Renly can stare at him freely. And stare he does. He can tell you how many freckles there are beneath his left eye (three), or which part of his lips he bites when he's concentrating very hard (the right side). He could find the tiny mole beneath his ear in the dark. _By the Mother, Renly, stop it_. Loras moves forward on his knees and he's right in front of Renly now, his chest touching Renly's legs. Renly can feel a tightening below his stomach. He forces himself to look somewhere other than at Loras's face. His gaze travels lower, to the loose white shirt Loras is wearing. The one that has strings crisscrossed over a v on his chest. It hangs loosely on Loras's slight frame. Renly stares at it and it and images of himself taking it off Loras enter his mind, unbidden and worrisome. He can almost imagine hooking a finger under the strings and pulling. As if to rid himself of the thought, he shakes his head.

"_Renly!"_ Loras stops in his work. Renly can feel a faint sting right above the line of his jaw.

"Ow," he mumbles.

"I told you not to move, didn't I?" Renly mutters a half-hearted apology as Loras lifts a knuckle to his face. He moves it over the tiny cut, and then Renly feels the pad of a thumb rubbing the blood off his face. Loras brings his thumb to his mouth without thinking, and Renly finds himself staring at his lips. He moves closer again, his eyes serious.

"Don't move this time," He leans forward and gets to work again.

* * *

"Why are you doing this?" Loras has asked this twice already. He buttons Renly's jerkin up.

"I want to. I'm not such a useless fighter, regardless of what my brothers think. I may not have war experience but I've fought in tourneys and things, I know how to do wield a sword." Loras starts to fix Renly's breastplate on to him.

"No one questions that – lift your arms up – all I'm asking is why you felt the sudden impulse to train with me today?"

"It isn't about you, Loras." He has, of course, heard many a tale of Loras's strength and ability on the field, and yes, he admits to feeling a certain..._curiosity_ about it, but it's also that he hasn't fought in a while and he'd like to swing a sword again. He tells Loras as much, and he smiles at Renly as he puts his gauntlets on to him.

"All right, but don't get upset if I unhorse you." He sounds confident, and Renly lets out a sound that is a mixture of scoff and laugh.

Loras did, in fact, unhorse him. It's alright though, Renly thinks. _Perhaps if it had been someone else I might have felt ashamed. Most things don't seem to apply to Loras Tyrell though._ He had taken a couple of decent swings at him, but Loras had parried everything away and come back twice as strong. He is still outside, on the field, finishing his training. Renly is sitting in the throne room when Loras enters, walking slowly with Maester Parkin's arm around his shoulder. A few squires and pages follow them in. Immediately Renly looks at Loras and he is flinching and Renly knows he's been hurt. Too late, he notices a red stain just under his shoulder, where his breastplate ends. He stands up immediately.

"What's happened?" He is worried. It looks gruesome. Maester Parkin looks up at him, smiling a calm smile.

"There's no cause for concern, my Lord. I'll fix it up for him in a moment, he's perfectly fine." He is about to say something else when Renly begins walking towards them.

"He is clearly not fine, Maester." He sounds distressed and he knows it. All the eyes in the throne room, including Loras's, are on him. He sighs.

"I apologise for raising my voice, Maester. Please – please just bring me the cloth and the ointment and I'll – I want to do it, please." Parkin nods and the rest of the people in the room leave one by one. Loras sits down where he is, on the cold marble floor of the room. He is looking at Renly, Renly knows it. He does not look back at him. He's already embarrassed by his panic.

The maester shuffles in and lays the supplies on the ground beside Loras and Renly thanks him. He turns and kneels beside Loras and works his breastplate off in silence. Loras is the first to speak.

"I am alright, you know." Renly pulls one sleeve of Loras's shirt down and off his arm to reveal a red wound. It isn't deep, but it makes Renly flinch. Loras chuckles.

"Why did you worry like that?" Renly is cleaning the wound, but he looks up at Loras now. His eyes, brown flecked with green and gold, move over Renly's face as if trying to figure something out.

"Don't look at me that way," Renly is tying the cloth now, knotting it around Loras shoulder.

"Why are you worrying so much?" He leans closer, and Renly's breath hitches in his throat. He finds Loras too close often, and even now, he can see that damned mole beneath Loras's ear, and the freckles beneath his eye; Loras is close enough that if Renly moved forward two inches, their noses would bump. He finishes tying the knot and sighs. It comes out sounding tired, but there's more frustration than. His heartbeat had picked up when Loras had raked his gaze over Renly's face with that searching look. With Loras this close, the heat of his skin lingering on Renly's hand and his ankle pressing against Renly's calf, that familiar heat pools in Renly's abdomen, and he can feel himself reacting to the proximity._ Fuck it, this is ridiculous._ Abruptly, he stands.

"Well. I think I'm done here. You should live." He can see disappointment in Loras's eyes but he walks out without another word.

* * *

In the days that follow, he makes an effort to keep away from Loras, asking for his meals in the chamber, walking about the castle only when he knows Loras is training. There is something unspeakable between them, a word that Renly can't pronounce. It excites him as much as it worries him. Loras is younger than him, no more than sixteen, surely, when Renly has already had his twentieth name day. More to the point, Loras is a _he_. Renly frowns and wishes that he had been born into a place where his last name meant nothing, that he was a baseborn with the bastard name Storm, who could want whoever he liked. But that isn't the way of it. He was Renly Baratheon, brother to the King, and Lord of Storm's End. He sits down on his bed, annoyed. He's unlacing the strings of his shirt when he hears a knock on his door.

"Who is it?" The door opens and Loras sticks his head past it, smiling his boyish smile. Renly has come to like it.

"Loras Tyrell of Highgarden," he announces dramatically. Renly almost laughs.

"Come in, you fool." He walks in animatedly, moving this way and that. Renly suspects that he may be slightly drunk.

"Why didn't I see you at dinner?" Loras smiles again. "It was wonderful. I suspect the kitchen workers are underpaid."

"I'll look into that right away." He's still beaming.

"There's the Renly I know and love. You've been acting so strange." Renly sees it now. There is a serious question beneath the smile. He puts it off, though.

"Strange?"

"Strange," he repeats. The smile goes away and Loras gets this insistent look as he sits down on the bed. Renly isn't paying enough attention to notice his boldness, but if he was, he probably wouldn't have minded. "Odd. It seems you bolt from the room whenever I'm there." He's hurt. Renly can see it, and he hates it.

"Of course not, Loras, don't be-"

"I'm not being anything, Renly. I haven't seen you all week." Renly purses his lips. He knows it too. He's felt it. He hadn't realized how accustomed he had grown to Loras's company. Loras is looking at the bed when he speaks again.

"I've missed you. I miss you still." He chances a look up and Renly can see that he is being sincere. His throat is feeling tight.

"I'm sorry Loras. I – I can't-" He breaks off and sighs. "I don't think of you that way. You're – this is nothing to me. I only see you as a friend."

"Then kiss me." Loras looks sure. _He's been drinking, he doesn't know what he's saying._ The smell of wine is lingering in the air between them.

"I don't think-"

"If it means nothing to you, then it won't matter." Loras looks up at the ceiling. "I probably won't even remember this tomorrow." He raises his hand and lets his fingers move over Renly's exposed collarbone.

"Loras…" Loras looks up at him, moving his face closer to Renly's until his nose is a hair's breadth away from Renly's neck. Renly can feel the heat of his breath against his throat.

"Tell me to stop."

It's the smallest movement of Renly's head, he inclines it downward only so slightly, but it's deliberate and Loras understands.

Suddenly their lips are pressing together, and mouths are opening as their bodies strain against each other. Renly can taste the wine on Loras's lips as he pushes down against him until Loras is pinned beneath him on the bed. Shirts are taken off. Loras has one hand on Renly's neck and the other on his cheek, pulling him closer. Renly puts his hands on either side of Loras's head on the sheets. Renly can feel the Loras's hardness through his breeches and he knows Loras can feel his as well. He pushes himself up, so that he hovers over Loras's body. Loras's has an intense look about him right now. His lips are pink and swollen and he is breathing as hard as Renly. There's a hopeful look in his eyes and Renly wants to nurture it and raise it up like a great fire from a tiny flame.

"Loras."

"Keep going." Loras's breathing is ragged.

"I want to." He need some assurance that this is not a mistake.

"So do I." For now, it's enough. He moves his mouth to kiss Loras again, but he is met halfway, and Loras is kissing his throat and Renly reaches down between them and Loras gasps and he gives Renly's neck a small bite and Renly barely feels anything except a wave of adrenaline from it. Loras comes apart in his hands and Renly himself is already close. It only takes a few second until he's done too and then there's a moment where they're only breathing, and then Renly shifts his weight so he's on the bed beside Loras.

Loras turns to face him.

"Do you regret this?" He has that look again, the one that makes Renly want to give him everything. He tells him the truth.

"No. Do you?" This is the moment where he is most vulnerable. There are no walls, the words have been spoken and he could not take them back if he tried. He fixes his eyes on the wallpaper.

"No," says Loras quietly. The warmth that Renly has come to associate with Loras alone fills him, and he looks back at him. Loras laughs, and Renly does too, and then they're closer again, quick kisses from smiling lips, and all thought gives way to feeling.

* * *

"You can play the lyre?"

"Yes! You didn't know? I would play while Margaery had her singing lessons with the Septa." Loras cocks his head to the side and looks at Renly. "Would you like to hear something?"

The weather is lovely today and they're in the grounds. Loras wanted to put his head in Renly's lap but Renly gave him a look.

"I don't have a lyre," Renly says. Loras hooks his finger into Renly's shirt and pulls him closer, smiling like a cat.

"Yes, but_ I_ do. Will you join me in my chambers?" Loras stands and raises an eyebrow at Renly, who gets up as well.

"It's a good thing you feel the way you do for me. You're a terrible flirt."

"It's why you love me." The words are meant to carry no weight, but they do, and Renly smiles and nods at Loras as they start for the castle.

Loras sits on the wooden floor of his room and Renly sits in front of him. Loras says that he asked the jester at Highgarden to teach him when he was a child and after he was brought to Storm's End he simply began making up his own songs, or learning how to play some of the songs that the musicians and ladies sang.

The lyre is beautiful, without a doubt; wooden and intricately carved. Loras says it was a gift from his grandmother. When he begins to play Renly can only stare, his lips barely parted.

The tips of Loras's fingers run over the strings of the lyre and the sound that pours into the air is warm, and Renly decides that if this music were a colour, it would be golden. Loras begins to sing, as well; softly at first, and then slightly louder. His voice rises and holds and trembles in the air between them. Renly barely listens to the words; he is too busy marveling at the melody, at the Loras's voice fills the room and at the way his fingers hold the delicate wood and fly over the strings. Loras closes his eyes and raises his head as if he is being taken away by the music. His neck is slightly exposed. When the song ends, Loras releases a final breath and puts the lyre down, looking at Renly with expectation in his eyes.

"What was the song?"

"I think it's called The Weirwood." Loras stands and goes to lie down on his bed, taking his shirt off. Renly stands too, and lies down on his side, holding his head up with his hand.

"It was lovely. I wish I could play like that."

"Maybe I'll teach you," Loras says lazily. Again, Renly is reminded of a cat. Loras takes a finger down Renly's neck, languid and relaxed.

"Maybe I could teach_ you_ some things," Renly move press his lips against Loras's, once. He takes his lips lower then, kissing first Loras's cheek and then his jaw and then his throat. Loras takes his face in his hands and brings it back up in front of his own, kissing him again.

"I bet you could, old man." The languor is gone now, and desire is here in its stead. Renly laughs against his lips, but moves lower again, onto Loras's collarbone, and then down his chest, putting his weight on his arms as he goes further down.

"Renly?"

"Hmm? He bites the skin of Loras's flat stomach softly and feels Loras take a sharp breath in response.

"Could you…what was that thing? That you did yesterday? In your room? With – how do I – with your mouth?" Renly pauses in his ministrations to look up at Loras. He's blushing and uncertain. Renly stops himself from smiling as he looks back at him.

"No, I don't know. What thing, Loras?" Loras looks up at the ceiling in frustration.

"You _do_ know, you're doing this on purpose. Would-" Loras sighs in frustration. "Would you do it again?"

"Did you like it?" This, too, Renly already knows the answer to.

"I – _Gods,_ Renly, yes."

"Yes, then maybe I will." He licks a horizontal line just above where Loras's breeches end.

"By the Maiden, Renly, you're the worst sort of tease." Loras covers his eyes with his palms in mock despair and genuine frustration. Renly begins to undo the knots on his breeches, pulling them down over Loras's hips.

A few minutes later, Loras asks Renly to teach him this, and Renly talks him through it; slower, yes exactly, now use your hands, like that, yes, Loras, _yes._

Afterwards, Renly feels as if he has no bones, as if the only things under his skin are organs and blood. Loras, is still catching his breath beside him. Renly moves to put a stray curl back behind Loras's ear. He counts the spots of gold his eyes. There are four in one and nine in the other. Loras puts his palm on Renly's chest, and they fall asleep.

* * *

On his next name day, Loras receives a basket of fruits from the esteemed bounty of Highgarden; figs and cherries and red grapes. He brings them up to Renly's room and suggests that they eat them outside, on the balcony. They're sitting on the floor, as they have come to do often, with the bowls of red fruit between them. Loras puts a cherry between his teeth and bites down. Renly starts with a fig, and feels the grainy sweetness spread over his tongue. Spitting the cherry pit out onto a plate, Loras turns his head to the side. Loras has told Renly that a few years ago, he considered taking the black.

"There's a lot of honour in it, I think. Maybe I'll be a man of the Night's Watch by this time next year."

"Please, Loras, you're only seventeen."

"I'm only joking. I could never become celibate. Not now. If we're talking about age, though, _you're_ only twenty-one.

"That's also true."

"Listen, Renly?"

"Yes?"

"It is traditional for a man to receive gifts on his name day, is it not?"

"It is," Renly pops two grapes into his mouth, and his teeth tear through the thin skin.

"Would you do something for me?"

"Anything." Loras opens his mouth to speak and then closes it again.

"I'd like us to try the other thing." He's blushing; Renly finds it somewhat endearing. "Where one of us would –" He looks up helplessly, a silent plea. "Do you understand?"

Just this once, maybe because it's his birthday and maybe because Renly has been wondering when to broach the subject himself, Renly makes it easy for him, leaning into him and putting a hand to his neck and speaking softly into his skin.

"I understand." They return to the room. Renly has done this before, with a girl, and he asks Loras if he has.

There's no shyness or embarrassment when Loras shakes his head.

"What? Never? Not even the other way?"

"I never really wanted to. Why do you look so surprised?"

"Because – well – look at you!" Loras raises an eyebrow and flashes a smile at Renly.

"Do you mean to tell me I'm handsome?"

"Shut up!" Loras puts his hands up in surrender, laughing.

"No, I just never really wanted to. I've kissed a few girls, of course," he says, rubbing his chin with his knuckles.

"I don't really care to hear about those."

"But what about you?" Loras walks Renly into the bed and leans over him.

"Me? I've slept with two; it's slightly over-rated, honestly."

"And what of men?"

"I might have kissed a page here and there, but nothing of consequence."

Loras nods and lowers himself over Renly to bite at the skin below his neck.

They start slowly. Renly stands leaning over the bed, with Loras on the sheets beneath him. There's some fumbling, and Loras is uncertain. Even Renly is slightly anxious at first, but not because of what they are about to do. He's more worried about making sure it feels good for Loras; he feels as if he has a duty, almost, in being his first. Renly expected it to be slow and deep, the first time, but Loras was never one to fit expectations. It's fast, and in the midst of it, Renly vaguely registers Loras repeating his name, and he is also half-aware of releasing a string of meaningless sounds, with a _'Fuck'_ or a 'Loras' here or there. Loras's stamina has improved in their time together, and he finishes just as Renly is thinking that he can no longer contain himself. Loras suggests a bath, and Renly goes to turn the water on.

Loras has his back to Renly's chest. He's leaning back into him, yawning. Their arms rest on the rim of the tub, fingers atop each other.

"When I asked you to do something for me, you said you would do anything."

"I did." Loras turns his head slightly. When he speaks again, the seriousness of his question breaks past his laziness.

"You meant it?"

"I did," he says again. And he did mean it. It's almost worrying, he thinks, how much he would do for Loras.

"Loras?" He turns around, twisting his lithe body to face Renly.

"Never ask anything terrible of me, please." Loras nods once and then presses his lips to Renly's. Renly puts his palm on Loras's back, bringing him closer. Loras is pliant to his touch. It is slower, this time. Somewhere in between the limbs and the steam, Loras mumbles something.

"What?" The word comes out breathless.

"I said I'm yours, Renly." Loras breathes the words into Renly's lips. They don't stop.

"And I'm yours, Loras." He buries his nose behind Loras's ear and says it again. "I am yours."

* * *

"Ned Stark's been named Hand."

"Well that's not so bad a choice, is it?" Loras asks. _No, it isn't, but Stannis won't like this._

"It's a good choice, actually. He's a good man. He may even be able to tame my brother slightly." Renly is reading the letter while his head is in Loras's lap. Loras is running a hand through Renly's hair absent-mindedly.

"There's to be a tourney in his name. I think I'll fight." Loras looks down at him.

"Are we to go?"

"Well I'm certainly to go, but if you came with me the trip would be much easier to bear."

"I would come with you regardless." Renly smiles at this.

"I'd like the chance to fight, actually. I hear they've been calling me the Knight of Flowers. I like that. 'The Knight of Flowers'; although, it's a slightly delicate title, isn't it?"

"You're a delicate fighter, though, aren't you?" He says it mildly, but he wants to laugh at Loras's expression. He's opened his mouth in mock outrage. He leans down and kisses Renly, biting his top lip as he pulls away.

"You'll have to try much harder if you want to bother me."

"I'll show you much harder," says Renly, pulling Loras down by the neck.

Loras slips out from underneath Renly's head and holds himself over his body, darting kisses onto his chest. He starts to bite. Renly tries to pull him upwards again but Loras is set on staying where he is. He bites a spot on Renly's stomach, slightly harder than he'd meant to.

"Easy, Tyrell. Be a good boy for a minute and come back up here." Loras raises his eyes from where he is, as sleek as a leopard about to pounce. The look in his eyes on its own is enough to stir a reaction from Renly's body.

"I'm not _good_, Renly. And I'm not a boy." He makes a trail down to Renly's hips with his mouth and Renly lets out a slightly strangled moan.

"Gods – no, perhaps you aren't a boy." Loras comes back up now, the bastard, and kisses Renly for a long moment.

"So are we going to King's Landing, then?"

"Yes. I'll need to take alcohol with me. The gods know that this won't be fun."

* * *

Loras is sulking. Renly doesn't know why, but his mood seems to worsen in the evenings, when the feasts and dances are happening. Renly finds this strange, because Loras is usually quite good with socialising and talking to people. King's Landing isn't as awful as Renly had thought it would be, but the meetings of the Small Council and the matters of Court are dreadfully dull and many times through the meeting Renly will be thinking of Loras; of the one curl that refuses to stay back, or of the way he kept his feet on Renly's stomach that morning.

He comes back to his room later than usual one night. They are due to leave in three days, and Renly is thankful. Loras is there, lying on the bed with his limbs sprawled out like a cat's. He's still sulking. Renly suspects that some of his glumness is put on, because he seems to enjoy Renly's efforts to pull him out of his moods.

"You were gone long." Renly pulls off his shoes and his shirt and goes to Loras on the bed, taking his hands in his own and holding them over his head. Loras's unhappy expression goes away for a moment to give way to a smile, but he schools it back into a pout as Renly dips his head to kiss him beneath the ear.

"I missed you the whole time."

"Did you miss me when you were dancing with Lady Lollys?" Renly freezes, and raises his head.

"Lady – are you_ jealous_?" He is both incredulous and amused.

"Of course I'm not jealous. Her head is filled with air. It's just –_ I_ want to dance with you."

This is it. This is their only argument, the one they keep coming back to. Renly insists that they have to be careful, that if this spreads, both their families will suffer. Such things are frowned upon, and under the magnifying glass that the realm seems to have put over the greater Houses, it would likely be considered sinful; unforgivably so. Loras is of a different mindset. He feels that they should be able to live however they like, but Renly knows that he is too young and happy to see the falsehood in such thinking. Loras speaks again.

"It isn't about Lady Lollys, or the dancing or any of that, really. I just don't want to have to censor what we are for others. Who are we hurting?"

"Nobody, Loras, we aren't hurting anybody," says Renly, putting his head down on Loras's shoulder. "But please just trust me. I would hide nothing of our love from the world if I could, but it isn't wise."

Renly goes back to kissing Loras's neck and then Loras's lips and Loras kisses back, and on this day, they speak no more of it.

* * *

Robert was not the sort of man who you imagined would die young. Renly imagined that he would live until his beard was white, yelling and drinking until he died. His brother had never been one to give in easily. When Maester Pycelle told him, he had just been about to speak to Lord Baelish about the crown's finances. He was going to go up to Loras immediately after when he heard.

He hadn't even considered, really, that Robert might not make it. In hindsight, the Maester had warned them that the king's injuries were serious, and that they should prepare themselves, but Renly hadn't given it much thought. He's more shocked than anything, but of course, Robert was his brother, and he isn't going to pretend it hasn't affected him. He goes up to Loras's room. Loras is playing on his lyre, flicking strings idly with his back against the headboard of his bed. He smiles when he sees Renly come in.

"How was the – Renly, what's wrong?" Loras sits up straighter.

"Robert is dead." Loras opens his mouth and then closes it again. He asks what happened. Renly explains as briefly as he can. Loras nods.

"I'm sorry." He puts his forehead on Renly's shoulder, and Renly wants to unclench the muscles that are winding him so tightly, but he can't. Loras undresses him quietly, and Renly is grateful. He doesn't feel like talking.

Renly is unforgiving. He lets out his frustration and grief and confusion through his hands, his teeth, his hips. If Loras feels pain, he says nothing. After they are finished, though, Renly sees him gingerly rotating a shoulder.

"I hurt you." The thought makes him hate himself.

"It's nothing, Renly."

"Forgive me." Loras walks to him, still naked, and holds his face between his hands.

"There's nothing to ask forgiveness for, Renly. You don't have to apologise." He kisses him once, softly, and then goes to put his clothes on.

* * *

They are wet from the bath, siting in their breeches on the balcony of Loras's room. The news of Robert's death is a week old, and they are in Highgarden Castle.

"You're a far better candidate then Stannis. You must know this." Renly sighs.

"_You_ must know that the fact that I have more charisma then my brother changes nothing. I'm still fourth in line."

"Would you have Joffrey on the throne, then? Or Tommen? One is a menace and the other is _seven_."

"I would be named traitor," says Renly uncertainly.

"No you wouldn't, the people love you. You would be a good, fair King."

"I don't know, Loras."

"You don't have to think about it right this minute." There's a minute of silence, and then Renly sits up straighter, reaching up to push back that one curl that keeps springing forward.

"This. This never stays back. Have I told you how I like it?" Loras sinks back into the pillows.

"You haven't." Renly's hand travels to his neck, where Loras's Adam's apple is.

"And this? Have I told you that I like this?" Loras smiles.

"No, you haven't." Renly's hand goes lower, to where a fine trail of soft blond hair goes down Loras's abdomen.

"You might have told me about this one, actually," says Loras. His eyes are closed.

Renly's hand slips beneath the waistband of Loras's breeches.

"This, then. I can't have forgotten to tell you about this."

"Tell me again."

* * *

One day Renly wakes up alone in his bed. Loras had told him the night before that he has to go for lunch with his father and grandmother. In the quiet of his solitude, he sees how dependent he is on Loras's company. Half a day without seeing him is unpleasant for Renly. When Loras comes back in the afternoon, he starts to apologise for how long he took, but Renly kisses him before the last word leaves his lips.

* * *

"This doesn't feel right."

"I know." Loras sounds as unhappy as Renly feels. At his suggestion, Margaery Tyrell is to be wed to Renly two days from now.

"It was your idea, Loras."

"I know." Loras says again. Renly sighs.

"I told you never to ask anything terrible of me." Renly says this with his eyes closed and when he opens them, Loras is looking at him miserably.

"Margaery will be a good wife," he says weakly.

"I'm not in love with Margaery."

"You're in love with me."

"More and more each day, it would seem."

"You are making this difficult. This won't – nothing will change, Renly-"

"Nothing will change? Everything will change! Your sister is beautiful and kind and clever, but she is not you. I don't want to grow old with her, or sleep beside her every night, or make love to her, Loras, only because she is not you." Renly takes a deep breath. His eyes are beginning to moisten. He lays his forehead against Loras's.

"I will never leave you." Loras's voice is quieter now.

"I never want to leave you," says Renly. Loras brings his face infinitesimally closer and their noses bump for a second.

"So don't leave me," he says.

"You've given me no_ choice_!" Renly's voice rises and Loras pulls back a little to look at him. He has a strained expression on his face.

"Please trust me. This is what needs to be done."

"To get me on to the Iron Throne? Will it be worth it? I'll be a sad king, Loras."

"Don't say that," he whispers.

It's very distinct, that night. The evening after Loras suggested the marriage to his mother and father. The air has shifted, and Renly feels has if they have lost something that they cannot get back.

* * *

One evening they talk about death. Margaery and her grandmother are with the tailor, discussing 'dresses fit for a queen'. Renly and Loras lie on Loras's bed, facing each other.

"I don't think death itself will hurt, really. That just seems like a switch that's flipped off. But, with Robert, for example, I think that would have been painful. He was just too stubborn to admit to it," Renly says. Loras trails his finger across the base of Renly's neck.

"How would you like to die, Renly?"

"I want to drift into it as if I'm going to sleep. I want it to happen when I am very old. And I want to be with you."

"I'd like to die in battle, actually. With an arrow straight to my heart, maybe. Or a sword that takes my head right off." Renly flinches.

"Loras! Don't speak that way. Gods, that's awful."

"Renly?" Loras takes Renly's chin between his thumb and index finger.

"Yes?"

"If I die in battle, make sure I am buried in Storm's End, alright? They will try and take my body to Highgarden, because I was born there. Don't let them. I want to be here. This is where I loved you." Renly swallows.

"I will make sure your grave is next to mine." This is a lie. Renly won't make sure of anything. He does not plan on living after Loras is gone.

* * *

The news reaches Loras in bits and pieces. He cannot point to one moment where he thought 'now I know he is dead'. First there is shouting.

"Find that woman!"  
"The King is dead!"  
"Tell his wife!"

_Tell his wife._ Loras knows how wrong this is. Renly would have wanted Loras to be the first to know, and Loras would have wanted the same if it had been him. He feels numb as he walks to where Renly was. His thoughts are spinning around his head, denying the truth of the things he's hearing.

_Renly is not dead. Renly cannot die. I should have been with him. I will kill the man who did this. I will kill everyone. Renly is not dead._

The tent is in disarray, but there is no sound inside. Loras pushes past the soldiers to where Renly is lying. His breastplate is only half on, and he is only wearing one of his gauntlets. There is a large red stain on his chest. Loras opens his mouth and a strangled sort of sound comes out. He turns to the soldiers.

"Get out, all of you."

"Ser Loras, we –"

"Get _out!_" His voice breaks. The soldiers leave, muttering angrily to each other.

He walks to Renly. He leans down on his knees beside him. Renly's skin is as white as the poppy milk that the maesters serve. Even his lips. Renly's lips were always pink. _When was the last time I kissed him?_ It was last night, in this tent, actually. After a meeting with the vanguard, when everyone had left, Loras had lingered. For the first time in four days, they had found a minute alone, and they were out of their breeches and jerkins in minutes, bodies cupping each other like hands, smelling of ink and sweat and war.

There is no word to encompass the ache that Loras feels. Sitting beside Renly, he takes off the one gauntlet, and then the breastplate, gingerly undoing the straps and pulling the thing off him slowly. He wants more time with him, another day, another hour, another minute. He can still scarcely believe it. In their hearts, they had thought Loras would die first. Loras was part of the vanguard and he fought on the front lines of battle every day. Loras had been the one to insist that Renly fight further back, even though the Renly had wanted them to be near each other.

Loras wishes now that death had come for him before it came for Renly. Or better still, that it came for them at once, so neither would have to live without the other. Surely that would be better than this hollowness that Loras is feeling; this heavy grief. The pain is staggering, sometimes. Surely death would be easier than this.

* * *

Margaery comes into his tent as he readies himself for battle.

"Loras."

"Sister?" He does not look up. His voice is flat. She hesitates.

"May I help you with your armour?" He lets her.

"Where are Renly's things?" Loras closes his eyes.

"I don't know."

"You didn't take his armour?"

"It didn't fit me." It hadn't. The breastplate had been too broad for him, and the bottom of it cut into his stomach. His gauntlets slipped easily off Loras's hands. He had hoped that wearing Renly's armour would make him feel as if part of Renly was with him, but he hadn't even been able to put it on.

"Ah." There is a pause. "I'm so sorry about what happened, Loras. I know you were close to him."

"We were close." He says slowly. Margaery hands him his helm and he takes it under his arm. Her expression is caution mixed with concern. It seems everyone is tiptoeing around Loras these days. He looks up at his sister, beautiful even in this plain white gown she wears, and realizes, for the first time, that she is now a widow.

"You lost your husband. I'm sorry, Margaery."

"Don't be. Will you be alright, Loras?"

"I will be alright." _No, no I won't. How can I be alright when he is gone?_

His sister kisses his cheek and leaves the tent. He puts his helm on, and as he leaves he can only think of Renly, who will never kiss him or hold him again. His absence has made the world paler.

When he is on the field and swinging his sword, he forgets Renly for a time, not thinking of how he has lost the person he loves. When the fighting is done for the day, he comes back to campground, with someone else's blood splattered across one side of his cheek. His arm is bleeding through his mail. It's nothing serious. Renly would have worried over him if he were here.

_But he is not here. He is gone, and I am lost._

* * *

A/N 2.0:

That was longer than I had anticipated. I hope you liked it anyway. Guess who learned how to use line breaks?!

This is a one-shot and it will stay a one-shot. (Or I may write a companion fic but this story will remain separate.) Reviews are always wonderful to read, so if you have a minute, leave one! Feel free to bash, or point out mistakes. Tell me what I did wrong. I like those ones too!  
Have a great week :)

Krook


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